


4; marks

by ralphstatortots



Series: george and alex [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: M/M, this is kinda domestic and sappy again soz :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 19:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16582943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ralphstatortots/pseuds/ralphstatortots
Summary: You left so many marks on me and I can’t cover them up and you just gave me a smug wicked smirk when I complained and I want to punch you and kiss you at the same time





	4; marks

**Author's Note:**

> oh man i’ve had so many urges to write a lot lately but the Words just Won’t Come Out, but i forced myself to so how’s this juice for ya fellas
> 
> p.s. thanks for almost 200 reads, i rlly appreciate people reading this mess xoxo
> 
>  
> 
> wattpad version for those that prefer it: https://www.wattpad.com/myworks/164443745-prompts-list-memeulous-imallexx
> 
> my tumblr: https://presidentfuckboy.tumblr.com/

Warmth and a fuzziness that only sleep can replicate is what follows George after he wakes up in the mornings. Nights are never spent struggling to curl up tighter into himself for any resemblance of heat when there is none, and he’s certainly never missed having the space in his bed less than he does now. _Especially_ with Winter fast approaching and Alex is basically a blessing disguised as a human space heater; there hasn’t been a night since they started sharing their beds that George has woken to a biting chill crawling across his skin.

Nothing is different with waking that morning when he stirs, eyelids repeatedly opening and closing as they blink through the sleep-glazed hue of the white walls. Ultimately, his aching eyes win as they close.

George can feel a bare arm loosely resting on his waist, and the fingers of said arm are curling inward into his abdomen. He blindly turns to face the owner of the arm but flinches when he rolls over too quickly and sharply. A hiss escapes George and he brings a palm to his forehead; he knew he shouldn’t have had that many drinks last night.

After the thrumming pulse in his head dulls, his shoulders loosen and he rubs at his eyes. Alex is still sleeping in front of him, hair mussed like a rats nest and face the epitome of peace. George smirks dazedly at the thought of that peaceful expression scrunching up when Alex wakes and realises just how bad his head aches.

For now, though, George decides to take advantage of the warmer side of the bed where Alex has taken residence and budges closer, tucking his shoulders under the blanket to close off any escaping heat. It’s strange, really, how Alex can feel absolutely _freezing_ during the day, stiff fingers and pink cheeks and all, despite the layers he has on. But as soon as they’re both under the covers and dead to the world, it’s like Alex is the damn sun. 

When there’s a deep inhale and a rustling of sheets to be heard, George opens his eyes without realising they were closed in the first place. Alex is barely awake now and weakly rubbing his thumb into his right eye, a wince growing into his face. 

George laughs at him quietly beneath the blanket, causing a weak scowl to be thrown his way – only for it to be ruined by a flickering of eyelids that fight to stay open. George breathes a laugh again draws in closer to Alex. He lifts a hand from under the blanket to trace under Alex’s eye, moving any stray hair that had inevitably stuck there in the night.

“Y’forgot to close the blinds.” Alex croaks and clears his throat soon after. He’s keeping his eyes tightly screwed shut and brow furrowed, as if the light coming through the window was personally insulting him. In a way it probably is, judging by how he shuffles closer to bury his face into George’s jaw. His arm has made its way around his waist again, and George is more than happy to return the gesture. 

“Not my job to close ‘em, Al, you can do it too.” He sounds better than Alex, but the words are still rough and grate on his throat. 

Alex hums in response but it doesn’t sound like he actually listened to George. Instead, they’re both quiet for a few more minutes. It’s silent enough that he thinks the other boy has fallen asleep against him, but another deep inhale and Alex shuffling around the blankets, eventually moving to lean over the side of the bed, disproves that. 

It’s then that George notices what he somehow missed before. 

Smears of pink and red are what cover odd patches of Alex’s neck, some small and some large, but all looking equally aggravated as far as bruises go. George doesn’t remember giving the hickeys to Alex – like at least half of their night out. Either way, lack of memories of the bruises origin aside, the sight still causes a different kind of heat to shiver across George’s skin. It’s hard to get a direct look at the damage done though when they’re out of view one second and Alex is moving back to his original spot the next. 

Alex has his phone in hand now, one thumb typing as his other arm slips under the pillow. “What time ‘s it?” George asks, stretching his arms and letting his fingers wander to the mess of his own hair.

It’s hard not to stare at Alex’s mottled skin now that he’s noticed and when it’s in such clear and close proximity; it’s more than tempting to just reach out and press the pads of his fingers gently into the bruises, maybe press a little deeper as Alex makes a strained noise deep in his chest, letting George’s fingers and mouth wander over them to both darken the old and make new ones before pressing Alex back into the sheets and–

“Almost twelve,” Alex answers, breaking the thoughts George had lost himself in for a moment. He’s hastily covering a yawn with his forearm before moving again to wipe away the tears it caused. It takes George a second to be a civilised person and to _not_ jump Alex like he was thinking, boyfriend or not.

Instead, George presses a subtle kiss to Alex’s jaw. “You’ve got a little something here, Al.” He mutters, placing another kiss to one of the closest hickeys. He relishes smugly in the hitch of the other’s breath at the action.

“Yeah?” Alex is smiling a little himself too, abandoning his phone somewhere beside him in the blanket to turn towards George fully. “Wonder how all that got there, huh?”

George snorts. “Well, I could probably give a re-enactment of how I think it happened, if you like.” He smirks, letting Alex upturn his face slightly to kiss at the corner of his mouth. 

His own fingers are trailing faintly along George’s neck, thumb skimming across his Adam’s apple briefly before he presses it deep into the section beside it. A dull buzz thrums under its light force and causes George’s own breath to hitch this time. It holds for a few seconds before Alex moves on to a second one, pressing a little gentler this time and watching George’s face.

“I would return the offer, but I don’t think there’s any space left to do any re-enacting on you.” Alex looks just as smug as George had earlier, when it wasn’t at his own expense at least.

“Can’t be anymore than yours, can it?” George murmurs softly. He’s distracted again by the bruises on Alex’s skin, watching as the other guides his hand towards one and resting it there. “There’s no way I have more than you.”

Alex huffs a soft laugh and presses one more kiss to his mouth, moving to sit up after. “Better go look in the mirror, then. Y’might wanna prepare yourself if you think mine are a lot, babe.” 

Though he rolls his eyes, George still does what was suggested after finding a pair of pyjama pants. The bathroom is brighter than he would like, even without the light on, and he winces as his eyes adjust. It turns out he didn’t prepare himself as well as he thought because _okay_ , apparently there is way more than he expected to have. While Alex had a good three or four hickeys covering both sides of his throat, there’s probably around six on his own. There’s not much difference in number, but it seems Alex had been more determined to make the bruises bigger in size.

“Alex, you’re kidding me, right?” George huffs at him when the other wanders into the bathroom. “Seriously? Like, _six_ hickeys?”

Alex only shrugs and smirks at him in the reflection as he retrieves his toothbrush. “Dunno, I think they look quite good on you.”

George shakes his head and glares at the marks on his neck. He’s supposed to be filming later – which, admittedly, is not the wisest choice after a night drinking – and there’s no way he can cover any of it up, even with a hoodie. It would only cover about four of them, maybe, but whatever isn’t covered would be obvious. Getting any basic makeup probably won’t work either if he still has to go out in public like _this_ , which would earn him more than a few stares.

As mildly annoyed as he is – and he never really is with Alex – George can’t help but silently agree that it does looking kind of good. Only a little bit, though. They suit Alex better, he decides.

He lets Alex past to use the sink, grabbing his own toothbrush. “Can’t believe you, Alex.” He sighs. George watches the other’s reflection as he seems to lean closer to the mirror, trying to subtly show off his own reddened throat with a less-subtle smile. “I absolutely despise you, y’know.”

Alex turns and grins at him. “Yeah right, like you could ever. Just let me know if you do want that re-enactment of yesterday or somethin’, yeah?” He says, pressing a finger into one of George’s hickeys teasingly and leaving him alone in the bathroom. 

George is halfway through brushing his teeth when he decides that he’s going to ruin the prat’s neck to the point that he couldn’t possibly cover all of them.


End file.
